Chester's Ordeal
by Shellecah
Summary: Matt wreaks vengeance on the men responsible for beating Chester in revenge for his testimony against a stagecoach robber.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Black clouds covered the night sky over the quiet streets of Dodge as lamplight glowing through the windows illuminated a lone, slim figure walking from the Long Branch to the marshal's office. The barbershop and millinery owners had snuffed their wicks, and solid darkness separated the two buildings.

As Chester moved cautiously along the walk, sliding his hand over the hitching rail, a man emerging from the passageway between the stores rammed into him. Chester thought the man bumped him accidentally, which often happened on Front Street, and he tightened his grip on the rail, scrambling for his footing and hoping the man wouldn't force a fight.

Two burly arms clamped his waist in a vise, and Chester knew the man was not another quarrelsome cowpoke or gambler down on his luck. Chester's heart bounded so he could hardly draw breath. He gasped a chest full of air to holler, and a meaty hand slapped over his mouth as the man nearly lifted him off his feet and dragged him through the passage toward the stretch of dirt behind the buildings.

His captor's hold loosened as Chester struggled frenziedly. Though he lacked strong fists, he could jump on a man from the front, knock him to the ground, fight flailing like a bobcat, and choke him until he stopped moving. Chester bucked against the man's arm in an effort to turn and defend himself.

"Where are ya?" the man hissed in a loud whisper. "He's gettin' away!" His voice sounded muffled, like he wore a bandanna over his face.

"Hold his arms behind his back," ordered another smothered voice.

"I can't. He'll yell if I take my hand off his mouth."

Chester saw the men as shadowy forms—one hulking, the other somewhat larger than Chester, and about half a head shorter. He heard a gun hammer click and froze.

"I'll shoot if you yell," the smaller man said. "Understand?" He spoke with calm deliberation, clipping his words.

Chester nodded. The big man let go of his mouth, and yanked his arms up behind his back. "What d'you want. I got no money," said Chester.

"Shut up," said the smaller man. "I'll do the talkin'." He stepped up close to Chester. The man's eyes above the bandanna were like bottomless black holes in the darkness. "Romulus Krane," the man said.

The memory flooded Chester's mind as he heard the name. Five years past, Mr. Dillon tracked down Romulus Krane, who had robbed a stage carrying Chester as the only passenger. The stage driver and shotgun man disappeared to parts unknown, leaving Chester the sole witness to testify at the Dodge courthouse against Krane, who the judge sentenced to five years hard labor.

Chester knew from the odd voice that the man standing before him now was not Krane. "Did Krane hire you to kill me?" Chester said.

"No," said the man. "Krane knows you're Marshal Dillon's friend. Any man kills you, Dillon'll never stop lookin' 'til he catches the one done it. He'll trail 'im like a bloodhound, and kill 'im himself or die tryin'. So Krane paid me to beat you 'stead of kill you. Oh, it'll rile Dillon sure, just maybe not enough to kill Krane and me."

"Mr. Dillon'll look for you anyway," said Chester. "He'll find you and throw you in jail."

"I think not," said the man. He moved closer to Chester until their noses almost touched. The man's breath smelled of chaw. "You tell Dillon _anything_ you recollect about me or what I said . . . ." He touched his gun barrel to Chester's shoulder. "If word of your blabberin' reaches my ears, I'll tell Krane, and he'll pay me to shoot you next time. Not so as to kill you, but it's gonna hurt. Krane ain't forgetting he spared your life when he robbed that stage, and you ratted him out.

"You recognize my voice, Chester?"

"No," said Chester. "No, I don't know you."

"Well, that'll work fine," the man said conversationally. "I stay here in Dodge, so I'll be around to shoot you if you tell on me and Krane. Now I gotta do what I been paid to do, Chester, and right sorry I am, cuz you seem like a nice fella." The man holstered his gun, and Chester started struggling again.

"Hurry up, before someone sees us," the big man holding Chester said. "You talk too much."

The smaller man hit Chester's midriff, paused as he doubled over, then struck his jaw. "Hold him up," the man said.

"Quit playin' around and get to it," said the big man, jerking Chester upright. "He's already faintin' away."

The smaller man pummeled Chester's torso and face with both fists. He felt like his ribs were afire, every blow like a knife stabbing him. The man hit him so fast, he couldn't breathe. He coughed and choked on the blood filling his mouth and nose, and saw the pain glaring white-hot inside his head. Chester thought he was dying, and wondered if Mr. Dillon and Doc and Miss Kitty would miss him, if Miss Kitty would cry, just a little, as Chester didn't want her pining too much over the likes of him.

The attacker dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back, and the man holding Chester let him fall. "I think I beat 'im too bad," the smaller man said, rubbing his knuckles and looking at Chester lying motionless in the dirt. "The marshal's gonna be powerful mad. I sure hope he don't find out I done it."

"He ain't findin' me," the big man said. "I'm ridin' out now and I'm not lookin' back."

Walking his rounds, Matt was passing the barbershop when he heard Chester groan. He was sure the sound came from Chester, as the marshal knew his partner's voice like his own. "Chester?" Matt said. Hearing the groan again, he moved through the passageway between the barber's and the millinery.

Matt peered through the darkness, took another step forward, and tripped over Chester. The marshal crouched beside him and turned him onto his back, unable to see how badly he was hurt. "Chester?" Matt said.

"Mr. Dillon," Chester said faintly. "I'm not dead."

"Where're you hurt," said Matt.

"All over," Chester whispered. His whole body throbbed, sharp pain cutting through him with every breath. Matt felt Chester's fingers grasping at his arm. "Am I gonna die, Mr. Dillon?"

"No. You'll be alright," said Matt, trying to sound reassuring as his chest tightened with mounting frustration and anxiety. He needed to know what was wrong with his friend. "You shot?" Matt said.

"No," said Chester, his breathing labored. "He beat me. I cain't hardly breathe, it hurts so bad. I'm gonna die."

"You'll be alright," Matt said. "We'll get you to Doc's."

He picked Chester up and carried him toward Doc's office. When Matt walked through the darker length of Front Street, his stride faltered as he clearly saw Chester's battered face in the light from the streetlamp. His partner's swollen eyes were squeezed shut, his features twisted in pain. Though Chester was light for a tall man, the marshal faced a walk of some minutes to Doc's, and Matt was winded as he reached the top of the stairs, his muscles quivering under the strain.

 _"Doc!"_ Matt shouted.

Doc opened the door in his dressing gown, his hair disheveled. Matt watched vitality animate Doc's small form, making him appear larger and stronger when he saw Chester in Matt's arms. The marshal felt humbled every time he witnessed this vigorous transformation in Doc.

"Put him on the table there," said Doc.

Matt lay Chester on Doc's table. Though Matt wanted to go for Kitty, he waited to see if Doc needed his help. Chester's head fell heavily to the side, his face resting on the table. His guttural breathing sounded loud in the room. Queasiness coiled Matt's stomach.

Doc brought his face close to Chester's, turning his head so Doc could look into his eyes. "Chester?" Doc said.

Chester opened his eyes halfway. "I'm dyin', Doc," he said. His eyes looked dull and remote.

"No, you're not," said Doc. "You're in a lot of pain. I'm gonna put you to sleep while I fix you up."

"Will it hurt while I'm sleepin'?"

"No," said Doc. "No, it won't." His brows furrowing in concentration, as though he listened for the solution to a mathematical equation, Doc's fingers gently probed Chester's ribs. When Chester gasped and cried out, his face scrunching like a grayish paper mask, Matt shifted his boots and his shoulders twitched. He lowered his head and tugged at his hat brim.

Doc slid his hand over Chester's hair and moved to his medicine cabinet, glancing at Matt. "I need Kitty," Doc said.

"Alright," said Matt. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, watching as Doc, chloroform bottle in hand, removed a cloth from a box on one of the shelves.

"Two of his ribs are broken on one side, one rib on the other side," said Doc. "His insides took a pounding; might have internal bleeding. He could come down with infection, too."

"Will he live, Doc?"

Doc stopped collecting his implements to meet Matt's eyes. "Yes," Doc said. "I'll see to it."

Doc wrapped Chester's ribs tightly with Kitty's help, and cleaned and bandaged the cuts on his puffy, discolored face. Chester slipped without awakening from the chloroform stupor into a deep morphine sleep.

"That's all we can do for now," Doc said. "If infection sets in, we'll have to use ice to break the fever. Put him to bed in the other room, will you, Matt?"

Matt covered Chester with the blankets, sat in a chair by the bed, and watched him sleep.

"Matt?" Kitty laid her hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go get some rest," she said. "Doc says Chester will sleep the night."

"I'll see you to the Long Branch," Matt said.

They walked slowly along Front Street. Kitty put her arm around Matt's waist, and waited for his arm to encircle her shoulders. She took his arm after a moment and draped it around her shoulders, and he hugged her against him.

"Chester will be alright," Kitty said. "Doc's taking good care of him."

"I know, Kitty," said Matt. "But I might not find who did that to him. A cloudy night like this, it's so dark behind these buildings, you can't see your hand in front of your face. I don't think Chester saw who beat him."

Matt returned to Doc's office early the next morning. "Doc," the marshal said.

"Matt."

"Chester awake?" Matt said.

"He's awake," said Doc. "No appetite yet. I coaxed a little chicken broth into him."

"Can I talk to him?" said Matt.

"You can talk to him," said Doc. Just don't pressure him too hard to answer questions."

The figure in the bed bore little resemblance to Matt's friend. Chester's face was more bloated, the bruises mottled. The dim eyes were unlike Chester's clear expressive eyes. He looked with resigned patience at Matt.

"Chester," Matt said.

"Mr. Dillon. Doc give me morphine," said Chester, his voice tremulous. "I don't hurt none."

"Can you tell me anything about who beat you?" said Matt.

"He said he'll shoot me if I tell. Only not so as I die. He'll aim for the shoulder or somewheres like. He said the man what hired 'im don't want me dead so you won't kill 'im," said Chester. "So you won't kill the man what paid him to beat me."

"I won't let him shoot you." Matt put his hand on Chester's shoulder. "Don't be afraid to tell me who did this to you."

"You cain't stop 'im if he bushwhacks me," said Chester.

"He won't get a chance to bushwhack you," Matt said. "I'll look after you 'til I find him."

"You cain't look after me, find him and do your job all to once," said Chester.

"You can tell me," Matt said.

"I'll tell," said Chester. "I'm scared's all."

"It's alright," said Matt.

" 'Twas Romulus Krane what hired 'em," said Chester. "Man I testified against what robbed the stage. Five years past."

"Krane," Matt said. He hadn't forgotten the name. He recalled the trial and Krane's weathered, rugged visage well. "More than one man attacked you?" said Matt.

"Two of 'em," Chester said. "The big one grabbed me, dragged me behind the barbershop, and t'other 'un done the beatin'."

"You see how they looked?" said Matt.

"No. 'Twas too dark. They wore bandannas roun' their faces."

"What about voices?" Matt said. "How'd they sound?"

"The big one jest regular. One what beat me talked like he's passin' the time of day, sayin' howdy. Careful, like he thinks on every word afore he says it. An' cutoff like. His words was cutoff," said Chester.

"Can you remember anything else they said?" said Matt.

"The one what beat me said he stays here in Dodge. That's all," said Chester.

"That's good, Chester," said Matt, patting his friend's shoulder. "You did good."

"I'm so powerful tired, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I think I'm dyin'."

"You're not hurting, are you?" said Matt.

"I'm not," said Chester. "The morphine stops it. I feel like I'll die though when I go to sleep some time."

"Quit saying that, Chester," Matt said, just as Kitty walked in the room. "You won't die."

"I will." Chester started crying. Feeling guilty, Matt looked helplessly at Kitty.

"Chester," Kitty said pleasantly, as though Chester wasn't weeping at all. "Hello, Matt." She showed none of the consternation Matt had felt at the sight of Chester's face.

Kitty took a cloth out of the water basin on the small table by the bed, wrung the cloth out, and cleaned Chester's face. "That's how Doc does it," Matt said. "Doc handles his distress easy like you're doin' it."

"Of course," said Kitty.

"I'm fine when you're here, Miss Kitty," Chester said sleepily. "I won't die when you're here. I can close my eyes a spell."

"That's good to hear," said Kitty. She smoothed his hair into place. "You do that, Chester."

"You look worn out, Matt," Kitty said. "Didn't you get any rest?"

"Some," said Matt.

"You had breakfast?"

"Not yet."

"Why don't you and Doc get yourselves somethin' to eat while I sit with Chester. He'll sleep awhile."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Matt loitered in saloons, restaurants and stores, sat out in chairs, walked the streets and looked through windows, listening for a man's voice with composed, precise, clipped speech. Noticing the marshal acting strangely, the town soon realized that Chester's assailant had not fled Dodge, and Matt sought him in their midst.

Though the swelling went down in Chester's face, the cuts scabbed, and the bruises faded to light marks, his eyes were listless, his face gaunt and pale, and he resisted food, which worried Matt, Doc and Kitty, as Chester ate enough for a man twice his size when well.

He complained of pain in his ribs, stomach and lower back. "It burns, Doc," he whimpered. "Like someone poundin' me with a brandin' iron." Doc would give him a double dose of morphine, putting him to sleep until the returning pain woke him up. Chester's friends recognized the profound look in his brown eyes, having seen that aspect in many eyes throughout their lives.

"I need you to tell me straight, Doc," Matt said. He and Kitty sat with Doc, drinking coffee in Doc's office.

"There's just no knowing yet, Matt," Doc said. "He's _young_. But he's not built to recover from a vicious beating like that anytime soon. It could go either way. I've had patients more far gone than Chester is regain their full strength."

"Doc and I know about the voice on that brute who attacked Chester," Kitty said.

 _"Kitty,"_ said Doc. "You promised not to tell."

"Well, I think Matt needs to know," said Kitty. "Matt, Doc and I wanna do everything we can to help you find that—"

"I didn't tell either one of you about the man's voice," Matt interrupted. "Did Chester say anything?"

"Doc was spying by the wall near the doorway when Chester described the attacker's speech," said Kitty. "It's not Doc's fault, Matt. He didn't want to tell me 'cause he knows you want to protect me from knowing. I made 'im tell."

"Doc has no problem keepin' confidence when he's of a mind to," said Matt, frowning at Doc. "Doc, if you wanted to hear what Chester and I were saying, why didn't you just walk in the room and listen instead of sneakin' around."

"Don't yell at Doc," said Kitty. "I said I made him tell me."

"I'm not yelling," said Matt.

"It's alright, Kitty," Doc said. "You don't say much to us when you're after a lawbreaker, Matt, not even now when Chester could die. Kitty's a woman, but I guess you figure I can't take of myself, either. I didn't let you know I was listening cuz you might've hushed Chester when you saw I was in the room."

"I never said you couldn't take care of yourself, Doc," Matt said.

"You imply it," said Doc.

"Matt," said Kitty. "If I think I hear anyone talking like Chester described, I won't ask the man anything. I'll come to you directly."

Doc jerked his head up, brows crinkling, then hurried to the bedroom. A moment later, Matt and Kitty heard Chester moaning, and followed Doc.

Chester had thrown off the covers. His face was flushed and coated with a sheen of sweat. "He's fevered," said Doc. "Infection. I need ice, Matt. A lot of it."

"Come on, Matt," said Kitty. "I'll help you get it."

Doc and Kitty packed ice around Chester while Matt stood out of the way. Kitty moved as surely as Doc, and knew what to do without his direction. Her lovely face was calm, and framed by dangling red tendrils that had fallen loose from the pins. She wore a lot of muslin these days, as she often helped Doc with the nursing, and she'd rolled the sleeves above her elbows. Matt wondered how her slender arms could be so strong.

"An hour should do it," said Doc, wiping his arms with a towel. "The ice will be almost melted then. Fever's already breaking."

They moved chairs to the bedroom, and watched Chester shiver and sweat rivulets at the same time. A pallor soon replaced the fever blush. "I'm cold, Doc," he chattered.

"You will be a little longer," Doc said. "We'll get you warm in a bit."

"His lips are blue, Doc," said Matt from his chair near the bed. Doc had dozed off, and Kitty was bustling around the rooms. Matt couldn't figure what she was doing, as everything looked clean and neat to him.

Doc started awake, rose and moved to the bed. He felt Chester's forehead and listened to his heart, then slipped a thermometer under his tongue.

"The fever's gone," said Doc. "Been awhile since the last morphine dose. You hurting any, Chester?"

"My ribs ache when I move," said Chester, "but the fire done burnt out. My belly and back don't hurt no more. And he quit stabbin' me."

"It's alright, Chester," said Matt. "No one was stabbing you."

"He was," Chester insisted. "The feller what beat me. He stabbed me with a huntin' knife right in this here room, so as my ribs busted in slivers, only I couldn't see 'im at all in the dark, him bein' naught but a shadow. You need to catch him, Mr. Dillon, iffen you can git a purchase on 'im. Shadow's hard to take hold on."

"I'll do my best," Matt said. "But he wasn't really here, Chester. I wouldn't let 'im get near you. You were delirious."

"Oh." Chester nodded gravely, looking intently at Matt. "I'm some eased in my mind he weren't here in truth, anyway."

"You hungry, Chester?" said Doc.

"A little, maybe."

"Well, that's good news," said Kitty, coming back into the room. "We'll get some meat on your bones, Chester; you'll be up and about in no time."

"Doc." Matt took Doc's elbow and led him out of the bedroom. "Why's he talkin' lunatic like that," Matt said. "Even considering what he's been through. He sounds addlepated even for Chester."

Doc rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know how Chester don't always make sense even when he feels fine?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Well, don't worry, then," said Doc. "He's just being himself, only more so, since he's still feelin' poorly."

Chester obeyed Doc's instructions to walk the rooms every few hours, and sit in a chair rather than lie abed. He would have stayed in bed all the time if Doc let him have his way. He kept his eyes closed sitting up, and slept as much as he could in the chair.

Matt paid a man to guard Chester, guessing his assailant would know from the talk around town that Matt was after him.

"Romulus Krane figures if he pays this man to kill Chester, I'll never stop hunting Krane 'til he's dead," Matt said, pondering Chester's account of the attack with Doc. Matt and Doc sat at the table in the marshal's office, their coffee untouched. Grounds floated in the coffee Matt had fixed. Doc said Matt's coffee tasted like the smell of burning coal oil. "Why Krane thinks I'd quit hunting him because Chester doesn't die, I don't know," said Matt.

"This Krane may think you'll give up the search rather than risk Chester getting hurt again by the man he hired," said Doc.

"I won't let Chester get hurt again," Matt said.

"You can't guarantee it won't happen," said Doc.

"You think I should give up the search, then?"

"I'm not gonna tell you your job, Matt, but if you stop looking for this man who Krane hired to beat Chester, my guess is Krane will tell the man to leave Chester alone. You don't find the hired man, you don't find Krane," said Doc.

Matt nodded, considering. "I don't know, Doc," he said. "I think Chester might shake out of his gloom if these men get their comeuppance. I'd like to put a gun in Chester's hand and let him shoot dead the one who beat him."

"Would you," said Doc. "You think Chester would do that, do ya?"

"No," said Matt. "But _I'd_ shoot the man if I dared. If Chester needs revenge on this man, I want him to have it. I'll let Chester watch while I give the man a trouncing."

"Sounds like a plan to me if you can find this man," said Doc. "I'd give 'im a trouncing myself if I was a little bigger. And younger."

Matt played checkers with Chester at Doc's office while Doc was out making calls, and the guard went for a beer at the Long Branch. Chin in hand, Chester slouched in his chair, moving the checkers any which way.

"How're your ribs feelin'?" said Matt.

"Some sore," said Chester. "Nowheres near bad as it was. Doc don't need to give me morphine no more. It jest hurts worse if I move around too much."

"Doc says you can move back to the marshal's office soon," said Matt. "He says you're not mended enough to work yet, though. Maybe you're up to makin' coffee when you come back. Just thinkin' of my coffee gives me shudders."

Chester shrugged, looking blankly at the checkerboard.

Near the stairs leading to Doc's, Kitty saw the man as she was about to go up and visit Chester.

"Morning, ma'am," he said, touching his hat brim.

"Good morning," said Kitty.

"You goin' to see Doc?" he said.

Kitty looked up at the man's face. She'd attuned her ear to every man's voice she heard, listening for one that sounded self-possessed, with careful intonation and staccato speech.

The man was a little taller than mid-range, with a sturdy frame more lean than wide. He had clear light-tan skin, and though his features looked ordinary at first glance, closer observation revealed a hard mouth and shifty eyes, alert yet oddly emotionless. Kitty had seen the man at the Long Branch, but she'd never heard him speak until now. He'd seemed a quiet sort who kept to himself. "Yes," she said, in answer to his question.

"Not a bad sickness, I hope," the man said. "Be a shame for a pretty lady like yourself to suffer. Something wrong, ma'am? You look . . . uneasy. You needn't be afraid of me, pretty lady. I'm just passin' the time of day."

Kitty forced a smile. "Of course," she said. "You headed for Doc's, too?"

He bared his teeth in what she supposed was a grin. "Haven't decided yet in all honesty," he said. "I just got a little ache. You know how these little hurtings come and go?"

Kitty nodded.

"I'm thinkin' I'll stand near Doc's stairs here a spell, and if my little hurtin' gets worse, why, up I'll go," the man said.

"What's your name?" said Kitty.

"Corbin Hackett, ma'am. And you're Miss Kitty. Heard folks call you by name at the Long Branch. Well." Hackett took off his hat, uncovering an unruly, thick thatch of hair. "I'll let you be on your way, Miss Kitty. I might still be standin' here gettin' up my nerve to see Doc when you come back down the stairs."

"You been laid up so long you're forgettin' the game," Matt said to Chester. "You're movin' all your pieces right in my path."

"Yeah, waal . . . ." Chester yawned. "I don't much feel like playin'."

Kitty walked in, holding her hand to her chest.

Matt quickly rose. "What's wrong, Kitty."

"I found him, Matt," Kitty said. "Or he found me. I've seen 'im at the Long Branch. Never heard him talk 'til now."

"The man that beat Chester?" said Matt.

"Good heavens," Chester whispered.

"His voice sounds how Chester described," said Kitty. "He talked to me friendly, but there's something cold about him, Matt."

"Which way did he go," said Matt.

"He said he'd stand around right downstairs," said Kitty. "Oh, Matt." Kitty put her hand on Matt's arm. "He must've heard you're looking for 'im. He's watching Doc's, hoping to catch Chester alone. He said he's waiting around trying to decide if he needs to see Doc. His name is Corbin Hackett."

Matt headed for the door. "I'm comin' with you, Mr. Dillon," Chester said, standing up. "I need to hear his voice to know you got the right man."

"You and Kitty stay here," Matt ordered. "I'll lock him in the jail and come back for you, Chester."

Chester nodded. Matt gave him a penetrating look, grinned a little, then hurried out.

Kitty quizzically regarded Chester, and he met her gaze. He looked like this when he greeted her coming home from a journey on the stage or train. "Oh," she said. She wanted to smile, but was too worried about Matt going after Hackett. Kitty slipped her arm around Chester's waist, mindful of his ribs, which Doc still wrapped tightly every day. "Chester," said Kitty.

"It'll be alright, Miss Kitty," he said.

Matt started down the stairs, and stopped. Hackett stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at him. Matt descended the stairs, and Hackett backed out of his way. "Corbin Hackett?" Matt said. Hackett's eyes called to mind an image of burnished tin.

Hackett stiffened. "Miss Kitty tell you my name, Marshal?"

"Never mind her," said Matt. "A friend of mine was beaten near to death awhile back. Chester Goode."

"That so?" Hackett swallowed hard and looked away from Matt.

"Mm-hmm," said Matt. "Man who did it left him bleeding in the dirt."

"Well . . . I know nothing about that, Marshal."

"You don't sound like other men do, Hackett," Matt said.

"What?" A droplet of sweat slid from under Hackett's hat over his face.

"Your voice," said Matt. "It stands out. Chester will remember it."

"Marshal," said Hackett. "I've never met Chester."

"I think you're lying," said Matt. "I think you did it."

"Did what?"

"Alright, get going," the marshal said.

"Where?" said Hackett.

 _"I said, get movin',"_ Matt growled. He grabbed Hackett's arm and pushed him forward.

"Where're you takin' me?"

"Shut up and walk," said Matt. "And don't be all day about it." Walking behind Hackett, Matt reached down, pulled the man's gun from its holster, and put the gun in the marshal's belt."

 _"Hey,"_ said Hackett, turning around.

"You stop one more time before I tell you to, I'll snap you in two," said Matt.

"Alright," said Hackett.

"Here," said Matt, when they reached the marshal's office. He opened the door. "Get inside," he said. "Keep movin'. Over there." Matt opened the door to the jail.

"You can't jail me, Marshal," said Hackett. "Even if Chester says I done it, it's my word against his."

Matt took the jail key from its ring, and opened one of the cells. "Get inside," he said.

"You can't jail me," Hackett repeated. "It ain't lawful." Matt shoved him into the cell and turned the key in the lock.

Chester walked slowly to the marshal's office beside Matt. "You doin' alright?" said Matt.

"Tolerable," said Chester. "Ma ribs are hurtin' more a bit."

"Chester," said Matt. "You wanna pay this Hackett back some of what he did to you?"

Chester didn't answer right away. "I'm not sure in my mind on it, Mr. Dillon," he said. "I might wanna hit 'im if my dander heats up. I'll watch if you fight 'im."

"If you hit 'im, don't jump on him," said Matt. "Your ribs could bust again if you do. Swing at him on your feet."

Hackett sat on the bed in the jail cell. Chester moved to the cell, took hold of the bars, and studied Hackett's face. His face like a blank mask, Hackett stared back at him.

"You say somethin'," Chester said. "So I know if you done it."

Hackett was silent. "Talk," Matt ordered. Hackett sat still and quiet, staring at Chester. "Talk, or I'll shove your teeth down your throat," said Matt.

"Talk about what?" said Hackett, turning his eyes to Matt. "I'm not the one beat 'im. If he says I did, you got no proof against me. You got no witnesses."

Chester blanched as Hackett spoke. "It's him, Mr. Dillon," Chester said, his voice trembling. "He done it. I'm sure of it."

"Where's the man who was with you that night?" Matt said to Hackett. "The big one."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Marshal," said Hackett.

Matt turned the key in the lock and opened the cell door. He collared Hackett, jerked him up off the bed, and slammed him into the wall. "Tell the truth _now_ or I'll smash your head to pulp against this wall," Matt said through clenched teeth.

"Alright," said Hackett. "Ain't you gonna turn loose of me?" Matt tightened Hackett's collar, twisting.

"He's _dead,"_ Hackett choked. Matt loosened his hold. "Keep talkin'," he said.

Hackett coughed. "Orrin must've thought he could swim," he said. "Don't know if he was tryin' to take a bath, or slipped in fishin' or what, but he drowned his clumsy fool hide in the Arkansas tributary. I seen 'im washed up on the bank when I was out huntin'."

"Well, he got what he deserved," said Chester.

"You think the marshal can protect you, Chester?" said Hackett. "Think again." Chester moved closer to him. "Romulus Krane's waiting for my report on you, Chester," said Hackett. "When I don't show, he'll figure I'm in jail and come after you himself so you won't bear witness against him. You should've learned your lesson about opening your mouth against Krane. You talk too much, Chester," said Hackett.

Though the marshal wanted to hit Hackett, Matt held back to let Chester strike the blow. Chester's eyes narrowed, and he slapped Hackett, opening a cut in the corner of his mouth. Chester slapped him again on the same side of his face, rocking his head over his shoulder. Matt grabbed Hackett, slamming him against the wall again as he lunged at Chester. Chester breathed noisily, shaking.

"Where's Krane?" Matt said to Hackett.

"He's staying in Cimarron," said Hackett.

"If you can ride after the beating you're gonna get, Hackett," said Matt, "I'll let you go. I don't want your carcass in my jail. Don't try to warn Krane I'm comin' after him, or I'll track you down and shoot you dead."

"You're a lawman, Marshal," said Hackett. "You got no right to fight me."

"You're gettin' your face pounded in," said Matt, "and I'm not takin' off the badge while it happens." He forced Hackett out through the back door behind the jail. Hackett tried to run, and Matt grabbed him and pushed him hard. Hackett fell in the dirt on his backside, and as Matt advanced on him, he swiped his leg through the dirt and tripped Matt, who stumbled over Hackett's leg and lost his footing.

As Hackett launched himself at Matt, Chester, his face distorted with anger, braced himself on his lame leg and kicked Hackett under the chin. Hackett scrambled to his feet, and Chester struck him. He staggered, then straightened up and swung at Chester. Matt grabbed Hackett's arm so he couldn't hit Chester, yanking the arm up behind Hackett's back. Hackett yelled, bending over, and Matt yanked harder. Matt drove his knee into Hackett's back, and he fell facedown.

Hackett rose slowly, leaning forward from the waist. Matt curled his fingers into a fist for the knockout blow, and stopped mid-swing as Chester, holding a wooden plank over his head, rushed Hackett from behind. Chester let out a sound between a howl and a scream, and crashed the plank across Hackett's shoulders. Hackett collapsed and lay still.

Chester dropped the plank, hugged his throbbing ribs, and cried. Matt laid a hand on his back. "Easy, Chester," Matt said. "You sure thrashed his hide good. You wanna see 'im ride outa here?" Chester nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. "Can you make it to Grimmick's alright?" Matt said.

"Yeah," said Chester.

"Go ask Moss for Corbin Hackett's horse," said Matt. "Moss'll likely recognize the name."

There was an upright barrel against the back wall of the building across from the jail's back door. Greenish black water smelling strongly of rot filled the barrel, and bugs floated on the surface of the water. Matt picked up a pail by the door, and dipped the pail in the slimy water. With his boot, he flipped Hackett onto his back, and emptied the pail over his face. Hackett opened his eyes, gagging.

When Chester returned with the horse, Matt sent him in the office to get Hackett's gunbelt. The marshal handed the belt to Hackett. "Don't ever show your face in Dodge again, Hackett," Matt said, "or you'll get worse than you got today. And remember what I said about not warning Krane."

"Krane can drop dead." said Hackett. "He's to blame for it all. This ain't worth any amount of money. I hope you die, too, Marshal. I hope a twister picks you up and drops you on jagged rocks, and breaks every bone in your body."

"Shut up and ride on out of here," said Matt. "You're movin' too slow."

Hackett groaned and winced as he hauled himself into the saddle, and his horse galloped away.

"There for sure goes rubbish blowed outa town," said Chester. "We goin' after Krane now, Mr. Dillon?"

 _"I'm_ goin' after Krane," said Matt. "You been through too much already, Chester. You're in no condition to ride yet."

"My ribs feel stronger from the exercise," said Chester, rubbing his sides. "I'm back to myself again, Mr. Dillon. Honest."

"Aright, Chester," said Matt. "We'll take the stage to Cimarron."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Now, if you and Matt are gone from home some nights, be sure and rewrap this tight as you can once a day, Chester," said Doc. "Twice if it loosens up."

"Well, I was hopin' I could jest take it off, Doc," said Chester. "I'm feelin' much better."

"No, no," said Doc. "Pay attention, now. A mending rib is a mighty fragile thing. You twist yourself the wrong way or bump into something, those ribs could bust all over again. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Well . . . no," said Chester.

"Don't know if I'd have approved _fightin'_ for a convalescent as a cure to lift your spirits, Chester," said Doc, frowning at Matt. Matt shifted his weight from one boot to the other, tapping his hat against his leg.

"It does seem to have worked wonders, though," said Doc. "You're about back to your old self. A mite more sensitive than usual, but that's to be expected."

"You told Doc how I carried on when we was behind the jail thrashin' Hackett, Mr. Dillon," Chester accused.

 _"Well,"_ said Matt. "It seems I can't do anything right around here. I thought Doc needed to know, Chester. I never heard you yowl like that, 'cept when you were havin' a nightmare. You been cryin' a lot, too."

"Cryin's not unusual for Chester," said Doc, stroking his mustache.

"Oh, I have not been cryin' a lot, any such thing," said Chester. "You're shamin' me, Mr. Dillon."

"Chester, I'm not shamin' you," said Matt. "Behind the jail, you—"

"Now, now. Wait a minute," said Doc. "You're gettin' on just fine, Chester."

"You think he's up to goin' to Cimarron, Doc?" said Matt. "It's no pleasure trip; I'm taking a man down."

"Might do Chester well to see this business through to the end," said Doc. "You plan to kill Krane, Matt?"

"If he'll draw on me," said Matt.

"You wanna see Krane killed, Chester, do ya?" said Doc.

"Well, I don't rightly know, Doc," said Chester. "Can't say as I feel much rilement against 'im when I think on it. I burned up my dander on Hackett, 'ceptin' some ashes. I think it's like you said, Doc. I need to see the end."

"Then we better get goin' if we're gonna take the next stage out," said Matt.

"Oh, here . . . ." Doc took a laudanum bottle from his medicine cabinet. "Chester, if your ribs start hurtin' too much or your nerves get het up, take a spoonful of this in water."

Chester went to sleep soon after the stage left Dodge. He listed to the side before long, snoring against Matt's shoulder.

They ate chili and cornbread at a place with no name, a building with a big sign reading _Meals and Board No Spirits_. "I'm guessin' the sign outside means no beer or whiskey, not haints," said Matt.

"Huh?" said Chester.

"Ya tired?" said Matt.

"Please don't start fussin' over me, Mr. Dillon. I've had enough of that from Doc to last a lifetime." Chester yawned. "I surely could use a few winks, though," he said. "Didn't sleep well on that stage at all."

"Looked to me like you slept the whole way," said Matt. "You were usin' my arm for a pillow."

"Oh," said Chester. "Well, I . . . " He yawned again.

"Go on up to the room and get some rest," said Matt.

"Alright," said Chester. "Where're you goin'?"

"To the saloon. I'm gonna ask around for Krane."

One gal worked the saloon, a woman who looked about Matt's age. She followed Matt when he walked in, and stood next to him at the bar.

"What'll it be, Mister . . . Marshal," said the barkeep, seeing Matt's badge.

"Two beers," said Matt. "One for the lady."

"Aren't you the nice one, Marshal," the woman said.

"What's your name?" said Matt, smiling at her.

"Dolores Lynn," she said. "Folks call me Doll." She did resemble a doll, if an aging one. Her heart-shaped face, of a peachy hue, was even-toned and smooth, and she had sparkling dark eyes, a small button nose turned up at the tip with a scattering of freckles across the bridge, and a little mouth with full lips like a ribbon bow. Her orange-yellow hair, worn in short unpinned ringlets, was out of style for the day. She was on the short side, curvaceous though not heavy, with a very slender waist and large erect bosom.

"What's your name, honey?" said Doll.

"Matt Dillon."

"You sure are one fine growed up man, Matt Dillon. Can I show you a good time after the beer?" said Doll.

"Maybe," Matt said. "I need to find someone first."

"Who is it?" said Doll. "I know just about everyone in these parts."

"Romulus Krane."

 _"Rom,"_ said Doll. "Sure I know Rom. He thinks I'm his woman." She tittered.

"Are ya?" said Matt.

"Course I am, dear. His and most every unmarried man's in this town, except the churchfolk, and I'm not rulin' out some of them. Nor all the married men neither," said Doll. "Now you, Matt. You're somethin' _like._ " She stroked Matt's arm. "I wouldn't mind bein' your woman only, no sir. Not at _all."_ Matt leaned on the bar with his face close to hers, and she kissed him.

"Where can I find Krane," said Matt.

"Place called Prairie Boarding House at the edge of town. It's the first place the stage passes comin' in," said Doll. "Rom should be there about now, taking his afternoon rest. What's he done now?"

"He hired a man to beat a friend of mine," said Matt.

"Sounds like somethin' he'd do," Doll said. "Be careful. He's a fast gun, and he'll shoot you soon as look at you."

"Thanks," said Matt. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Say, Matt . . . ."

"Yeah."

"Where're you from?"

"Dodge."

"Ain't that where the Long Branch is?"

"That's right," said Matt.

"Can I go with you when you head home?" said Doll. "The Long Branch is a fine place, and I'd like to get out of this dump. I need a change of scene."

"Sure," said Matt. "I'll introduce you to the lady who owns the Long Branch."

"That's Kitty Russell," said Doll, smiling wide. "You know Kitty?"

"Yep. We're good friends."

"Oh, Matt. Now, ain't that the best luck," said Doll. "I've never met her, but I've heard plenty about her. Hardly a saloon gal in Kansas hasn't heard of Kitty Russell. You heard of Kitty, too, ain't you, Mo," Doll said to the barkeep.

"Yeah, sure, Doll," said Mo.

"Don't forget me when you leave for Dodge, Matt," said Doll. "I'll be here."

"I won't forget ya, Doll," said Matt.

"Is Kitty your woman?"

"Kitty's her own woman. We're good friends, like I said."

"Uh-huh." Doll nodded, leaning back against the bar as she watched Matt move toward the batwings. Matt thought her shrewd expression out of place with her girlish features. "I don't wanna wreck my chance of a professional relationship with Kitty," Doll said. "You won't mind if I don't show you my room, Matt?"

"No, Doll. I won't mind."

The parlor at the Prairie Boarding House was empty when Matt walked in. He followed the sound of clanging pots and the smell of roasting pheasant to the kitchen. A woman stood with her back to him, washing dishes.

Matt stopped in the doorway and knocked softly on the frame, and the woman turned. "Oh, hello there," she said, smiling at Matt. "Oh my goodness, a U.S. marshal. You need a room, do you?"

"No, ma'am," said Matt. "I'm looking for a man who boards here. Romulus Krane."

The woman's smile faded. "Oh, him," she said. "Hopefully he's broken the law, and you can get him out of here. I don't like his kind. He's in the upstairs room at the end of the hall."

"Thanks," said Matt.

Krane's door was unlocked, and Matt entered the room without knocking. Krane lay on his back on the bed, his fingers linked behind his head. "What the—" Krane sat up, saw Matt, and froze. "Dillon," Krane said.

"Strap on your gun and get outside," said Matt.

"What . . . _why?"_

"You hired Corbin Hackett to beat my friend half to death," Matt said. "The man who testified against you for robbing the stage. Chester Goode."

Krane rose cautiously from the bed. "I was just payin' 'im back for what he done to me," Krane said. "I coulda shot him when I held up that stage, and I didn't. But did your Chester cut me a break for sparing his life? No."

"I'm not gonna chat it out with you," said Matt. He took Krane's gunbelt off the bedpost.

"That's mine," said Krane.

"Meet me out in the street," said Matt, "or I'll come back up here and throw your hide through the window." Matt walked down the stairs and out to the middle of the street, carrying Krane's gunbelt. Krane followed, and Matt tossed the belt to him.

"I never thought you was any near so fast as your reputation, Dillon," said Krane, strapping on his belt.

"You're about to find out," said Matt.

They paced off, and Matt waited.

"Well, Marshal?" Krane called. "You forced me out here. Whatsa matter, you yella?"

Matt saw he'd have to bait Krane into drawing first. "You hired a man to beat my friend so you wouldn't have to face me," said Matt. "You hid out like a dog with your tail between your legs. You're not a man, Krane; you're a groveling _dog._ "

Rage twisted Krane's craggy features. He did indeed look like a snarling dog at that moment. Krane grabbed his gun, and Matt drew and shot him in the chest. Krane fell forward, firing his gun into the dirt.

Matt holstered his gun, walked to Krane, bent down, and turned him over. Krane's shirt was soaked in blood, but he was still alive, his eyes open. "Did you kill Hackett?" he whispered, gasping.

"No," said Matt.

"Wish you had." Krane mouthed the words, his lids drooping. He coughed once, and blood spurted through his lips. He grabbed Matt's shirtsleeve, his grip surprisingly strong, and arched his back. "Hackett's fault," Krane said in a gurgling voice. "You never would've found me. He told you."

"Hackett got a sound beating," said Matt. "He didn't get off clean. And the other one, Orrin, drowned in the river."

Krane closed his eyes, his lips curled back in a rictus, and his shoulders jerked repeatedly. Matt realized he was laughing. _"Good,"_ Krane hissed. His fingers fell away from Matt's sleeve, his body relaxed, and his face slackened into blankness.

Chester sat on one of the beds in their room, tying several long strips of rawhide into intricate knots, when Matt walked in. "Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"Where'd you get those?" said Matt. "You got some nice pieces there."

"Feller come through with 'em for sale," said Chester. "I had my pay, but 'twasn't enough, so I give 'im my old knife into the bargain, which don't matter none. My best knife is to home."

Matt sat on the bed. "Krane drew on me, and I shot 'im," he said. "He's dead."

Chester looked into Matt's eyes. As was the case at times with Chester, Matt couldn't figure a glimmer of what his friend was thinking. Doc said that was because Chester often thought nothing at all, though now he seemed to wait for a lead from the marshal, some talk from Matt that could guide Chester to a response, or put a thought on Krane's death into his head. Matt at times found this passive side of Chester worrisome, if not mildly annoying.

"Krane's body's at the undertaker's," said Matt. "You need to see it?"

"Why," said Chester.

"You said you needed to see this thing through to the end, Chester."

"Oh," said Chester, nodding seriously.

"You don't have to look at the corpse if you don't want to," said Matt.

Chester turned his attention to the rawhide strips again. "I'm well now, Mr. Dillon," he said. "I'm myself. Even my ribs is only jest a little sore. I don't need that bottle Doc give me. Doc fusses too much."

"A gal's ridin' home on the stage with us tomorrow mornin'," said Matt.

"A gal," said Chester.

"Her name's Dolores Lynn," Matt said. "She goes by Doll."

"She work at the saloon here, does she?" said Chester.

"I'm gonna introduce her to Kitty," said Matt. "Doll wants to work at the Long Branch."

"Oh," said Chester. "Is she pretty?"

"Yep," said Matt. "Not young, though."

"Well, she can't be that old, workin' at the saloon," said Chester. "Is she nice, Mr. Dillon?"

"Yes, she is. Real nice."

"I haven't had a beer all day," said Chester. "We could both use one, Mr. Dillon, seein' all we been through today."

"Sure," said Matt. "But if you're thinkin' of visiting her room, don't. Kitty hires her gals the business way. She might not like it if she finds out Doll's been with you."

Chester blushed. "Gracious, Mr. Dillon," he said. "You're holdin' me up to embarrassment. You know I got no money for such as that beside. I told you I done spent it all on these hide pieces."

"Well, you're not above askin' me for money when you need it," said Matt.

Chester gathered the rawhide in a bundle and hugged it to his chest. "Now, you know I wouldn't never ask you for money for that," he said in a hushed tone. "I don't know what you take me for, Mr. Dillon. I never been so embarrassed."

"I just don't want Doll's chances ruined for a job at the Long Branch, Chester," said Matt. "I'm not tryin' to embarrass you. The only way to tell you is to tell you."

"Well, I don't follow the drift of that," said Chester, winding the rawhide into tangles. "I don't see the point of tellin' me at all. I just thought it would be nice to talk to a pretty gal, is all. Didn't even know she was _that_ kinda gal."

"Alright, Chester," said Matt. Let's go for a beer."

When the stage let them off in Dodge late the next morning, Matt, Chester and Doll walked to the Long Branch. Kitty was at the bar with Sam, talking about the food she wanted put out, free to any man who ordered a drink. With Sam's advice, she'd decided on hard-boiled eggs, bread and butter, cold beef, sour pickles, and shelled peanuts roasted and salted. Kitty had wanted sliced tomatoes as well, but Sam said the men wouldn't eat tomatoes, that the sight of a pile of sliced tomatoes might put them off their feed, and they'd refuse to touch the spread at all.

 _"Miss Kitty,"_ Chester called out, hurrying to the bar. "We're here. We're back."

Kitty turned, and smiled at the sight of Chester's smiling face. "Chester," she said. "Don't you look well and strong."

"I am," he said. "It sure is good to see you, Miss Kitty."

"You saw me yesterday, Chester."

"Always seems longer when we're away," said Chester. "Sam."

"Chester," said Sam.

"I'll let Mr. Dillon make first greetin'," said Chester, as Matt and Doll approached the bar.

"Hello, Kitty," said Matt.

"Matt," said Kitty.

"This is Dolores Lynn," said Matt. "She wants to work here."

"Hello, Dolores," said Kitty.

"Oh, I am _pleased_ to meet you, Kitty," said Doll. "I heard all about you."

"You _did_ ," said Kitty. "All good, I hope."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," said Doll. "I go by Doll. If I get the job, I aim to work respectable this time. I wanna start out new, Kitty. No more spending nights with the men."

"Most of us come to that decision if we're lucky, Doll," said Kitty. "Better sooner than later." She linked her arm around Doll's. "Come on upstairs; I'll get you fitted out," said Kitty.

"Reckon I'll sleep at the marshal's office tonight, Mr. Dillon, since I'm not an invalid no more," said Chester.

"We'll have Doc check you out first," said Matt. "Come on."

"I'm through sleepin' at Doc's," Chester said, walking beside the marshal. "What he says no matter. I'll keep my ribs wrapped if he tells me to, but I ain't stayin' in his office."

"You should do what Doc says, Chester," said Matt.

"I won't stay in Doc's office no more," said Chester "You won't let me stay in the marshal's office directly, Mr. Dillon, I'll jest set out, is all."

"Set out where?" said Matt.

"Well . . . I'll figure it through on the way," said Chester. "A man needs to make his own decisions."

"Alright," said Matt. "Will you let Doc check you out, anyway?"

"Don't see any harm in that," said Chester. "I will."


End file.
